Severance

Working a mysterious and important nine-to-five that leaves your memory the second you leave the office might be an appealing reality to those of us permanently chased by half-baked ideas and unanswered emails, but at what cost? Dan Ericson created Severance to bring such a premise to life, with season 1 released in 2022 and season 2 airing weekly episodes since January. The show follows workers at the big Lumon Industries corporation that have had their work and personal memories separated from each other, a procedure known as Severance. This witty take on the nature of corporate jobs is taken further by stellar direction and production, resulting in a series that brilliantly reflects a myriad of aspects of the human experience in life, labour, and the balance of the two.

The topics Severance manages to shed light on throughout the show are broad, complex, and undergoing constant change, but the overarching theme that differentiates this show from other sci-fi dystopias is the ever-present clever critique toward late-stage capitalism. It is made clear from the beginning of the show that the main characters don’t actually know what Lumon does or what their work is. This lack of specific purpose and connection to the products of their labour is reminiscent of the concept of worker alienation, introduced in the Paris Manuscripts by Marx (who could very well have inspired the name one of the main characters, Mark S). This reflection is further seen in the character development of each employee, as the conflicting relationships between their inside and outside personas (“innies” and “outies”) soon becomes a main plot point: as Marx writes in his manuscript Estranged Labour, “The worker feels himself only when he is not working; when he is working, he does not feel himself.”

It is made clear from the beginning of the show that the main characters don’t actually know what Lumon does or what their work is

Severance also explores themes that arise from this alienated worker status, such as the realisation and consequent revolution that comes with workers awakening to their lack of rights, or the ethical conflict of working for a company with authoritarian principles: Lumon enforces nine core values decreed by its first CEO, which introduces a pseudo-religious element from which characters and plot lines stem. The corporate life itself also receives a few shout-outs: Severance brings common elements such as employee perks or corporate retreats to extremes so uncomfortable that the audience is made to reflect on the nature of these ideas to even understand the plot itself.

Such a twisted, complex plot is not straightforward to understand and follow, particularly when its sci-fi element allows two characters to have four (very different) dynamics between each other. This convoluted puzzle is delicately presented to the audience via skilful direction and production, which is what has led Severance to be one of the most talked about shows in recent years, particularly over the last weeks in social media.

A key strategy the executive producer and director Ben Stiller utilises is respecting but teasing the balance between what the audience and the characters know. This is reflected in the first character met, Helly R, who learns about the procedure and her surroundings at the same time as the audience, welcoming the viewer to a horrifying and confusing reality. As employees explore the truth behind Lumon’s endless white halls and their department’s characteristic green desks, direction earns an opportunity to examine the background of the “outies,” and with that very smart nods to elements of daily life: burnout, family, loss, and love, the latter fantastically brought to screen by the great John Turturro.

These more relatable themes are beautifully and tragically intertwined with the show’s disturbing dystopia in season 2 episode 7, Jessica Lee Gagné’s directorial debut. From the writing and storytelling to the borderline overwhelming number of symbols, foreshadowing, and revelations, this pseudo-bottled episode is being called the best one of the show and one of the best in history. And while I agree, I believe the greatness of that chapter in the show is hugely due to massive production work and quiet world building since the very first episode. 

Every symbol, reference, and even facial expression is intentional and reveals a part of Lumon’s disturbing truth

The specific keys behind the elevator’s ding, the carefully curated pharmaceutical lighting and Lumon-branded shades of white, green, and blue, and the dolly zoom on employees to represent their transition from inner to outer personas and vice versa are just some of the details that the production team brings to life to a very high standard. Severance is loyal to the strong statement that nothing is by accident: every symbol, reference, and even facial expression is intentional and reveals a part of Lumon’s disturbing truth. This perfectionism is what is bringing millions of viewers together to hypothesise and attempt to solve the many questions they are left with every week: Severance’s greatness is also proven by the degree to which it has infiltrated viewers’ lives beyond the 40- to 60-minute episodes aired every Friday.

Dan Ericson wrote the first Severance scripts in the lunch breaks of his own dreadful office job, wanting to portray the humanity hidden within it. His passion for this concept bleeds through in every scene, making Severance an astute, audacious commentary on work/life balance, something we all search for, to a degree only slightly less extreme than portrayed. The beauty of this show is therefore found in its paradoxical element: it distracts viewers from their jobs, routine, and concerns, while watching others suffer through exactly that.